


The Upside of Accidents

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [2]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, old fic I barely remember writing, with snark and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Carelessness in the kitchen leads to another stolen moment with the boys. (A PWP missing scene that takes place in the "Shifting" universe, which you can choose to ignore or not.)
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O'Reily
Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862302
Kudos: 11





	The Upside of Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to journals and whatnot sometime around 2006.
> 
> Somewhat stand-alone ficlet with the guys set during some undefined time in the "Shifting Alliances" universe. If you don't want to read that beast, just assume it's set in some strange AU where Ryan and Miguel hooked up in Season 3 to deal with El Cid. There were weird nicknames, and there was lust and love, although nobody is talking about that last one.
> 
> Warnings: it's prison, so there are offensive and bad things. Bad language, racial and homophobic slurs, and other deeply problematic language and behavior, unsafe sex.

Miguel was making up a hospital bed when he caught sight of a new arrival to the ward. Ryan O'Reily, half-heartedly escorted by a guard. When one of the inmates was seriously fucked up, the hacks were always so much more animated, either in a pissed off panic while worrying about their jobs and safety, or barely concealed vicious amusement. The Irishman was walking and looking unscathed, which must've made him a tedious and boring task for the hack. Ryan's escort dropped him off and left for Emcity again with barely a backwards glance. It was no longer the fucker's job to even pretend to care, since anything Ryan did from there on out was someone else's problem. 

It was the walking and looking unharmed part that made it easy for Miguel to act casual. He finished making up the bed, smoothing his hands over the clean sheets, before he strolled over towards Ryan. When the actual medical staff was busy, it fell to the orderlies to sit the patients down somewhere and tell their asses to wait.

Miguel needed to snag Ryan before somebody else did. Luckily, none of the other orderlies were ever in a rush to do dick. Miguel called out to him, because the Irishman was carefully _not_ looking in Miguel's direction. "Yo, O'Reilly. Dr. Nathan ain't in today." 

Ryan rounded to face him with a smirk that wasn't quite a sneer. "Any old hot nurse will do there, hermano."

"Dr. Prestopnik ain't your type. Is he?" Miguel paused to shoot him a look, which got him a pissed-off one in return. All show. Nothing real. Just their usual teasing back-and-forth, hidden in a hard shell for the public. 

"The nurses are too busy for your ass right now unless you're coughing up blood. Come on." Miguel explained, turning to lead the way to a hospital bed Ryan could sit and chill on until someone with actual medical training arrived. He knew Ryan was following without having to turn around.

Miguel took them far enough away from the occupied beds to keep their words from carrying if they kept their voices down. Ryan acted bored as he sat on the hospital bed that Miguel indicated with a wave of his hand.

"What do you need?" Miguel directed the business-like murmur to the ground, absentmindedly rubbing the side of his nose.

Ryan stared at him with another smirk, a different one, that somehow implied Miguel's stupidity. It focused Miguel's gaze on him more watchfully as Ryan lazily waved his left hand in front of his body. "Uh…medical attention?" 

Miguel caught sight of Ryan's viciously red palm. Shit. It hadn't occurred to him that Ryan might actually be hurt. He'd just assumed his shark had to tell him something. Or needed to steal something from the hospital ward. Miguel had to restrain himself from immediately reaching out and grabbing Ryan's wrist, from examining Ryan's hand. The ward was bustling around them. They were too fucking out in the open for Miguel to suddenly start acting panicky over an injured Ryan O'Reily. 

He shifted his movement into a vague gesture towards Ryan's hand instead, keeping his voice casual. Curious, bored, and looking for gossip. Surviving in Oz made you a fucking Oscar winning actor real quick. "What the hell did you do, man?" 

"Burn." Ryan continued the tactic of looking at Miguel like he was mildly brain-damaged, with a bit of a tilt to his head. He held his hand up steadily in front of him, though. Palm out, showing off the injury. Like he knew if he didn't, Miguel would be even more tempted to grab it and make sure he was okay. Miguel knew Ryan could see through his best act. 

The burn didn't look too bad. Angry as fuck, but no blisters yet. They'd gotten burns in there before. Not as often as stabbing victims and shit, but it happened. Mainly to the kitchen boys. There was something that looked a little strange about it though. 

"You already get something put on it?" Miguel asked the question like he was just taking Ryan's info, to make it easier on the doctor or nurse that had to deal with him. He was torn between actually flagging someone down and getting Ryan taken care of right away, or dealing with it as much as he could himself so he could draw out his time with Ryan. As soon as the actual medical help got involved, with as busy as it was, they'd fix Ryan up and send him on his way. It didn't look _immediate attention_ bad, and so Miguel held off. Maybe he was being fucking selfish, but Ryan wasn't acting like he was in a hurry either.

Ryan lowered his hand, turning his burned palm towards his own gaze, looking down at it mildly with a shrug. "Butter. Had it in the kitchen."

Miguel's eyes rolled heavenwards, scornful breath leaving his lips. Even he knew that shit was wrong. "You buttered yourself? Jesus. You don't do that shit with burns. Makes it worse."

"How?" Ryan's gaze shot back up to him, narrowed and fixed, the fact that he'd taken a little offense clear in his tone. 

Miguel didn't really take it personally. "I don't fucking know. I just know it does. Fucking cooking yourself, probably. Nobody wants to eat your skinny white ass." His words were milder than Ryan's expression, Miguel turning it into a complete joke to wipe away any offense. It worked. Most of the mild scoffing sneer now being directed his way was an act. 

But it was a good thing they were still in public, because Miguel could just fucking tell that Ryan had something to say about that last statement, and Miguel's choice of words. Something involving how often Miguel's mouth was on Ryan's dick. He knew his fucking shark's mind and mouth too well.

"Yeah, that makes sense." Ryan's demeanor turned sarcastic, as he went back to implying that he thought Miguel was stupid with his expression and tone. "Where's that hot nurse?" 

Had to balance it -- not too much venom, because that was passion too, and would draw attention. Always a tightrope act.

Miguel just smirked at him, like he wasn't offended enough to be bothered. Ryan wasn't being too offensive, anyway. All mild and casual sarcasm and derision, the usual. Not enough to make it look like they were actually itching for a fight. Miguel put up with far worse working here. Motherfuckers were always angry and posturing when they were weak and hurt. "Too busy to bother with this little shit. Come on, you need to rinse that off."

"Fine, _nurse_."

Miguel already had his back to Ryan, leading him through the hospital ward again, but he heard the mild, jabbing sneer in Ryan's voice just fine. It was all he could do not to roll his fucking eyes again. Nobody paid them any mind. They had an excuse. They were fucking good at balancing on that line. Hell, the way they had worked their public images and their connection, if anyone gave it a second thought, they'd just think they had gang business. Off discussing tits and arranging something. Miguel led Ryan to one of the private rooms that had a sink, far away from the activity in the ward.

They each dropped a little of their own personal swagger as soon as they were in private. Everything shifted, relaxing. A change in the very air around them. Alone with Ryan, one of the few instances Miguel could ever drop his act. It meant more than you'd think, being able to let things show. Such small moments eased the weight hanging over him all the damn time.

Miguel listened for the click of a lock, the drag of a chair, as he went to the sink. It was small and made of brushed metal, set in a long cabinet that stored medical supplies, like in a doctor's office on the outside. Ryan joined him there, standing close enough to brush against his entire body. Different than the usual move of encroaching on somebody's personal space and taking it over. This was something obviously shared. Craved. A tangible intimacy that was only allowed in here, alone. Because the difference was obvious, even for Ryan, who usually curled up close to anything that fucking moved. (And some things that didn't.)

He took hold of Ryan's wrist automatically, turning the faucet to cold with his free hand. Ryan just let him, staring at his burn passively, making it clear he didn't really give a shit about his hand. He did let out the smallest breath as Miguel turned his palm up, letting the cool water run gently over it. Might be a bit of relief. Might be pain or sensitivity. Seemed to be the former following the latter, as the water helped soothe the angry heat of the burn. 

"This really an accident?" Miguel asked quietly, while watching the water run over Ryan's raw reddened palm. It trailed over both of their hands, mingling and leaving damp trails and beads of water on skin. He still hadn't let Ryan's hand go, taking care of the Irishman even though he could sure as hell manage to hold his hand under the water all by himself. Miguel hadn't really noticed what he was doing until then. Ryan hadn't stopped him. So Miguel didn't let go.

"Yes." Ryan's deadly low voice answered. He was acting tough and offended at the implication again. He still wasn't moving away, though.

Miguel unconsciously ran his thumb over Ryan's wet wrist, fingers stroking the back of his hand in the same unthinking way, keeping both of their hands under the faucet. He was partially making sure all that fucking stupid butter was rinsed off, but he also figured the cool water was helping. Ryan's expression wasn't as hardened with annoyance as he obviously wanted it to be, the comfort brought by the water softening his eyes. 

"Chill. Just, usually, accidents don't just fucking happen around here. Kitchen's a good place to fuck with somebody." Miguel said, casually letting his concern show. 

Ryan shrugged and answered calmly, seeming almost bemused, ending the 'I'm offended and very fucking tough' game. He sucked at maintaining that shit when they were alone. Miguel was pretty sure it was always the genuine concern that made him break. "Nah. It was Cyril. I got distracted trying to keep him from doing something fucking stupid and hurting himself--"

"--And you did something fucking stupid and hurt yourself." Miguel finished for him, more fond than insulting, turning the water off with his free hand. Ryan shot him another mildly annoyed glance, but it was gone with another carefully light stroke over Ryan's hand, sloughing off the water, before he finally let Ryan go completely. 

Ryan grabbed some of the cheap brown paper towels to carefully dry off his injured hand. Miguel took the one Ryan absentmindedly handed him, following suit. He was watching the other man's face carefully, though, wondering. Had Ryan fucked up his hand on purpose? It was a long shot, but Miguel wouldn't put it past him. Of course, it would be more likely if Ryan had come here to snag something from the ward or see Doctor Nathan. He wouldn't do that shit just to see Miguel when they'd see each other later, anyway. Not that Miguel didn't truly appreciate the visit. Their little breaks from the crushing routine, another chance to take a deep breath.

Then Ryan did that freaky fucking thing where it was like he knew what Miguel was thinking. He did that to everybody, though. All the damn time.

"It. Was. An. Accident. _Jesus._ " And Ryan sounded just pissed off enough by the injury, almost glancing down at his hand with disgust, that Miguel believed him. Ryan crumpled the paper towels, tossing them away.

"Doesn't look too bad." Miguel commented, reassuring himself more than Ryan, who still didn't seem to fucking care much about his own fried flesh.

"It isn't." Ryan used his perfected deadpan again. 

"Hey, you're the one that came running to the hospital ward for something so little. Wimp." Miguel carefully teased, just playful and fond enough not to really piss Ryan off. Mindful not to call him a pussy, because that may open a whole other can of worms. Ryan bit back viciously when you really pissed him off, always knowing exactly what wound to reopen and pour salt in, so Miguel tried to fucking avoid that. That shit, being aimed for and stabbed by a master at it, wasn't any fucking fun.

Ryan thankfully didn't seem to take it seriously, because he didn't strike back like that. He just parried and played instead. He walked away, gaze casting backwards to Miguel to show that he wasn't really distancing himself, only crossing the room to the hospital bed. 

"I came to see you." Ryan settled casually on the bed, sitting facing Miguel, showing off his fake glare. "Can't fucking think of why _now_." 

Miguel smirked, unfazed, following the few strides over to Ryan. Closing the distance between them again, until he was standing right in front of Ryan. Wasn't done yet, though. "I can." 

He leaned in to brush his mouth over Ryan's. A whisper of a kiss. A tease. The kind that was just a hot touch, making lips barely damp, making Ryan chase after him when he pulled back half an inch with a soft breath.

Miguel loved Ryan this way, mouth half-open and lazily hungry, in pursuit. Ryan's wiry arm reached out as he moved forward, hand grasping the back of Miguel's neck, making him almost shiver as rough fingers dug into his hair. Sometimes Ryan's mouth rushed after him firmly, changing the kiss into something hard and deep. This time…the touch of Ryan's lips was just as gentle and taunting as his had been, the opposite of the strong hand firmly grasping him and sending heat skittering down his scalp. Ryan just barely caught Miguel's bottom lip between his own, in a way that made Miguel groan and want more. Hot promise held out of reach. It made Miguel the one who turned the kiss hard and needy, trying to swallow Ryan whole. 

Slippery bastard. Turning the tables. Getting people to do exactly what he wanted in the end, making them do it for him. Ryan lived that way. It made a fucked-up kind of sense that sometimes he kissed that way. Fucked that way. Only some of the time though. Most of the time Ryan just threw himself into it. Real and without manipulation. Stripped down to hunger and passion, chasing everything that felt good. Giving and taking what he wanted without pretense. Today, however, he must have been in a much more scheming and teasing mood.

Miguel liked any of Ryan's moods that got that mouth tangling with his in a way that had him pressing closer and capturing heavy breaths between his lips, while tracing heated skin under Ryan's shirt with his fingertips. Ryan melted into every kiss, losing any tease or scheme or restraint really fucking fast. 

Ryan was so fucking easy, leaning forward into Miguel, returning everything with grasping heat. 

Ryan was so fucking difficult, all manipulation and need and fucking danger.

Ryan was so fucking...hard. He'd slipped forward on the cot, pulling Miguel closer, briefly brushing against him just enough for his dick to graze Miguel. A hint of rapidly stiffening heat.

When the kiss ended, Miguel pulled back enough to actually see Ryan as more than a heated blur. His lips were parted just a little still, tongue peeking out like he was still savoring it. Those green eyes were darkened with lust, glassy and open, not calculating and shrewd. Like the only thoughts foremost in Ryan's mind now were -- _want to kiss, want to touch, want to fuck_. Miguel fucking loved him this way, too. Distracted. Ryan's long legs were spread wide, letting Miguel stand between them. He'd stepped closer without noticing, following Ryan's tugging hands, pressing right against the edge of the cot. Ryan had just opened his legs around him, allowing him so fucking close, bracing against him.

Whatever the golden-tongued Irishman may have been going to say before was long gone. 

Ryan's right hand had slipped down, resting on the curve of Miguel's neck. Miguel felt him reach out with the other, barely skimming his side before Miguel managed to muster the strength to stop him.

"Don't." Mouths parting again with Miguel's caution.

Ryan, lips still parted and damp, blinked. "W-what?" He sounded hazy and full of want. 

And confused. 

Fuck, it was hot when he was able to turn Ryan on enough to slow the man's quick brain down. Miguel stole another kiss from that soft open mouth before he explained. Because Ryan was fucking distracting too, when he looked like that. 

"Your hand? Your singed fucking flesh?" Miguel tried to keep the laughter out of his voice. It worked, because the roughness in his voice brought on by the heat spreading through Miguel's body obliterated it.

Ryan shrugged himself impossibly closer, forehead brushing Miguel's, as he dismissed Miguel's words. "Fuck it."

Miguel had to grab Ryan's wrist to still his injured hand from slipping back under his shirt. He really wished he was as unconcerned about it as Ryan, because it was a bitch to have to stop the slip of Ryan's touch over his skin. "Things heal slower when you fucking touch everything with them, Tiburón. It'll hurt, and you'll get the wound dirty." 

"You're really into playing fucking doctor today, aren't you?" Ryan said with mild exasperation, almost a playful condescension, but with a belying grin on that mouth so close to Miguel's.

"I'm a healer, baby." Miguel drawled. 

Ryan paused just long enough that Miguel would bet he was holding back another fucking smartass 'bedpan brigade' comment. But instead of being an asshole, because Ryan's view of working in the hospital ward really didn't fucking mesh with Miguel's, his bottom lip with the tiny scar below it dipped down again with a hitched exhale instead. Distracted by the light stroke of Miguel's fingers over the sensitive skin of Ryan's wrist, caught again in his hand.

"You're good enough to work with one hand." Miguel purred when the insult never came. Because, yeah, distracting Ryan by getting him worked up had _several_ amusing benefits. 

O'Reily was a lot fucking sweeter when he was horny. Or at least, he was less of a dick. The only urgent and slightly thoughtless things he said were the really fucking fun ones. Like _come here and kiss me, don't fucking stop._ _Blow me…please_.

Miguel liked hearing him say _please_ with that desperate gasp in his voice. It would probably be best to keep Ryan from regaining his bearings, keep them both nice and lost. Miguel stroked Ryan's arm, and that mouth slipped back to his without further objections. Ryan stole away Miguel's own bearings with such fucking ease, knowing just how to get him just as dazed, dick hardening enthusiastically in his own thin scrub pants. Lost to the sounds of their breath and the creak of the bed, Ryan's mouth drawing him down. Pressing closer, as Ryan's hips tilted up, that stiff heat brushing against him briefly again, Ryan unconsciously seeking friction. Fucking hard now. Miguel could tell even from just that tiny hint. Knew, because he was just as fucking hard. Wasn't close enough anymore. 

Couldn't be close enough. Ryan's mouth exposing all of that greedy hunger, trying to take him in, little slipping thrusts of his tongue, fucking that way because they weren't on top of each other. Yet. All that desire stripped bare for good, with the smallest groan into Miguel's mouth.

So easy.

But Ryan continued to prove he could play Miguel just as fucking easily. Even with only one hand, under his shirt, skimming his skin. That body against his. And that mouth. Easy. Making Miguel climb onto the cot to straddle Ryan's lean frame. Making him ache for the contact everywhere. Because when Ryan fucking kissed him like that, dragging that calloused hand over him, it made every inch of his body feel like it was alive and hardwired to his cock.

Miguel sat up, pulling away just long enough to strip off his scrub shirt, tossing it close by on the bed. Stripped down, shirtless, was better for clean-up. Better to stoke that burning glint in Ryan's gaze, too. Ryan didn't have much time to stare and run his greedy hand over Miguel's exposed stomach before Miguel was leaning back down, Ryan following the movement over his skin, hand slipping over his back. 

Miguel was undoing buttons on Ryan's white shirt, slowly, by touch, while he went back to tasting Ryan's kiss. The slide of skilled tongue skimming inside his mouth just like that hand teasing along his skin. Ryan shifted and slithered against him, and the stiff kitchen button-down was tossed aside as well, left only with the barrier they didn't have time or patience to remove, Ryan's white tank underneath. Miguel pushed the worn, tight shirt up. Palm flat on pale skin, Miguel ran his hand over every inch that he could with the movement.

Didn't have much time, and their bodies knew it. Needed it quick and to the point. Ryan's kitchen uniform was so fucking easy to untie and slip nice and low, boxers following. Just that dick and those hips exposed to the air, damp and straining upwards with a shiver.

Miguel's hand snaked down to cup Ryan's balls. Quick didn't mean it couldn't be nice. Ryan just…fell back across the hospital bed, with a low, dirty groan. His head fell back, eyes half-closed. Miguel wanted to fucking laugh a little again at how lost Ryan was, and he would've gotten away with it too, as long as he had that soft warm weight in his hand, doing those things that were unraveling anything cool or collected about Ryan. But he couldn't laugh when that pale, arched throat --outstretched sensitive skin, muscles pulled long and tensed tight-- was just begging for his mouth. Lick. Bite. Suck.

Actually, it was Ryan's dick, hard and eager with a twitch under his tracing fingers, that was _really_ begging for a suck. But Miguel would have to move to pull that off. Off of Ryan. Off the cot. Miguel wasn't fucking moving. No way in hell was he giving up that body underneath his, firm between his legs, pressing against his own aching dick. He wrapped his hand around Ryan for a nice dirty stroke instead. Stripped down to pure _get me off. Now_.

After drawing a nice long shudder from Ryan beneath him, a harsh tug on the front of Miguel's scrub pants made his hand twitch around that hard cock. It drew out a good, gasping response from Ryan. Even better, Ryan's hand didn't stop, dragging Miguel's pants down, all friction against his dick followed by the release of air and freedom.

"Finally." Miguel practically growled in appreciation, unable to control the rough relief in his voice.

Ryan laughed, low and hitching, breaking apart with his panting breath. But it was still laughter. That bastard could manage both at once, amusement mixing with the rough slick noises of him getting jacked off. Of course.

Miguel's annoyance was obliterated by the shiver of his dick brushing against Ryan's heated skin. Couldn't press close enough after that, leaning down over Ryan, bracing himself with his free arm. Miguel rested some of his weight on Ryan in a way that just made them both groan, hands stroking in complimentary rhythms. Feeling the sticking tickle of sweat between their stomachs as they panted against each others skin. 

Miguel turned his face into Ryan's neck, nuzzling him without thought. All part of the movement and need of their bodies. Clean-shaven and smooth still, yet smelling like pure Ryan, aftershave worn away. His nose brushed Ryan's adam's apple as his mouth trailed over that outstretched throat. Had to _feel_ Ryan's hard swallow as he shivered and came, thrusting up hard against Miguel, rushing into his hand, the quietest whimper escaping Ryan's lips. Felt the heat spread and stick against his skin. 

Miguel was so fucking hard still. Close but not quite there yet. Not languid and spent and slick like Ryan. Tiny taste of lightning still pushing him along. He was panting, open-mouthed against Ryan's throat, lost in Ryan's grip. Couldn't stop. Couldn't slow down. Couldn't catch his breath. Didn't fucking want to. Wanted all of it rushing through him. 

"C'mere--" Ryan's low growl was right by his ear, hand firmly pulling Miguel's head up to his mouth. To that sloppy, rough open-mouthed kiss. Made Miguel dizzy, made him scrape his teeth over soft wet heat. 

Ryan bit back, sharp and quick. Feral. In for the kill, Ryan's hand holding him just right. Fast, dirty stroke that was _justthis_ side of tight. Damp. Working Miguel just the right way. The way only Ryan did it.

Shark. 

Miguel came, with a desperate downwards grind, driven by more _now_ more, following Ryan's sure hand. Ryan's rhythm never faltered, as Miguel's came apart with a groan captured by that sharp mouth and the taste of copper. 

Miguel didn't even notice that Ryan had been misbehaving, left hand curving against the small of his back, blunt nails digging into his skin, until he was breathing heavy and spent, eyes fluttering closed against Ryan as he came back to himself.

"That's one hell of a bedside manner you've got there, Miguel." He could feel Ryan's breathless and amused voice against his skin, his hand running down Miguel's back.

Miguel pulled himself up slowly, grinning smoothly at Ryan, wanting to see that deep-voiced happiness on the man's face. "Only the best for my favorite patients, baby." Still straddling Ryan's body, Miguel winked down at him.

"Using the fucking plural there, hermano? Should I worry?" Ryan joked, leaning up to… _ohhh…that was nice_. Soft, lingering brush of Ryan's mouth over his sensitized stomach. 

"No." Miguel's strong answer was stripped bare enough to almost lose the joke. He caressed the smooth curve of Ryan's throat, passing on his shiver.

Didn't have time for more, though. Only one more stolen moment before they were moving off of each other.

"Still need to get this checked out by a nurse." Miguel pointed out as they pulled their shirts on after cleaning up.

"Nah, I'm fine." Ryan only scoffed again. "I work in the kitchen, gato. I've been burned before. I only come here when there's someone I want to see." He ended the explanation with another short kiss, briefly pulling Miguel in for just a press of lips.

Miguel's laugh followed the departure of Ryan's mouth. "You come here to get laid." 

Ryan threw his sly smirk over his shoulder, half-turned towards the door. "Hey, that was your idea." 

"Suuure, hermano."

Ryan leveled a look at him, as Miguel joined him near the door, their voices lowering. "Yeah, my first thought after scalding off a layer of my fucking skin was a nice quick fuck. That shit really turns me on." 

And yeah, Ryan was being sarcastic and dismissive and just talking shit, joking like always, but the core of it, the unadorned meaning of the casual words, was what hit Miguel. The unrepeated _I just wanted to see you_ that was apparently truer than Ryan seizing the unexpected opportunity to get their rocks off.

Miguel kept up the joke though, showing his respect for the sentiment by stroking his hand subtly over Ryan's arm instead. "You complaining?"

Ryan's head dipped close, laughing quietly. "No fucking way."

Ryan was _right there_ , making it so easy and sensible for Miguel to steal another kiss, practically feeling the corners of Ryan's mouth tugging up in a grin.

They stepped even closer to the door and paused, listening. A nod passed between them at the silence, and Miguel tugged the chair away from the door as Ryan unlocked it.

Miguel went out first, eyes sweeping the empty hall. He reached back, cracking the door open in a signal for Ryan to leave. He gestured to the room next door. "Wait in there, I'll get a nurse."

Playing it safe by switching rooms. They'd cleaned up and straightened the sheets, but Miguel would change them after he led a nurse to Ryan, to make sure.

"Make it a young, eager one." Ryan called out.

Miguel rolled his eyes as he walked down the hall.

***

End

**Author's Note:**

> For pixelarious.


End file.
